


‘Tis an Ill Cook That Cannot Lick His Own Fingers

by dahlstrom



Series: Forswear It, Sight [2]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 21:12:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9289778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dahlstrom/pseuds/dahlstrom
Summary: In which the boys bake cookies and talk about their feelings~ A tiny bit of h/c here as well. This is a sequel tomy previous ficand is set two days later. This may become a series? We shall see. Enjoy! ❤





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from _Romeo and Juliet,_ Act 4, Scene 2.

When the doorbell rings, Isak is already half-awake (or maybe a quarter of the way) and therefore isn’t _too_ bothered. He flops over onto his back and rubs his eyes, then sleepily crawls out of bed and grabs a shirt from the floor, pulling it over his head before opening his bedroom door. It’s only then that he realizes Even’s side of the bed is empty and he pauses for a second, glancing uneasily toward the living room. After a moment he hears the shower running, and relaxes a bit.

The buzzer goes off again, and he calls out that he’s on his way, still rubbing one eye with the heel of his hand as he crosses to the front door. It’s Sunday morning, and whoever comes over this early on a Sunday can damn well see him in his boxers, he muses. 

To his complete surprise, it’s Even standing in the hall when the door is opened. “Good morning!” Even says brightly, and leans in to kiss his cheek. “Thanks for letting me in - sorry, I assumed Noora would do it. Did I wake you?”

He’s sauntering past Isak in the direction of the kitchen, a small grocery bag swinging from his hand. Still bemused, Isak slowly closes the door behind him. “I thought you were in the shower,” he says, almost to himself, but Even hears him.

“It must be Noora in there now. Anyway, I woke up about an hour ago and decided I wanted to make cookies, so I came in and checked what you have, which is basically nothing that we need except eggs, so I ran out to the store really quickly.” He holds up the bag, grinning. “It’s not Christmas without _serinakaker,_ you know.”

He disappears into the kitchen, and Isak has no choice but to follow him, smiling a little himself now that he’s adjusted to being awake (and at the prospect of cookies, because of course Even is right). “Do you know how to make them?” he asks, watching Even unload his grocery bag - flour, sugar, butter, vanilla extract, sliced almonds. He’s pretty sure most of these things are already in the cupboards, but since they're technically his roommates’ it was polite of Even to buy new ones. “My nana always makes ours. I think my mom made them a couple of times,” he adds as he steps closer to Even, sliding both arms around his waist from behind and lifting onto his tiptoes to press a kiss to his ear. 

Even leans back into him with a soft laugh. “I don’t think it’s that difficult. But I looked up a recipe to check the measurements of everything.” He sets the last item on the counter and turns in the circle of Isak’s arms, smiling warmly down at him as he cups Isak’s face between his hands. “You’re going to help me, right?”

“Of course,” Isak replies, and tilts his face up, silently asking for a kiss. Even gives him one quite willingly, and naturally one becomes two, then three, and then Isak starts to lose count. His knees have begun to go weak by the time Even finally pulls back. 

“I want to take a shower before we start, though,” Isak tells him. “After Noora’s done. Or whoever’s in there.” 

“That’s cool! I’ll just set out the butter to soften some.”

“Come in here and sit with me when you’re done,” Isak calls, heading toward the living room. “And show me the recipe?”

He’s hardly settled himself on the sofa when Even joins him, and Isak immediately curls into his side, smiling when Even’s arm slides around his shoulder. He takes Even’s offered phone, which is already open to the recipe page, and begins reading through it. Even gently runs his fingers through Isak’s hair and, after a moment, he says quietly, “I wanted to tell you something.”

“Hmm?” Isak asks distractedly. 

Even leans closer to press his lips to Isak’s hairline. “I wanted to tell you last night, but we were... preoccupied.”

This gets Isak’s attention, and he turns to look at Even, eyes wide and cheeks reddening. “And whose fault was that?”

“I take full responsibility.” They both laugh, and Isak sets Even’s phone down beside him before turning his body fully to face him, ready to listen. “I just wanted to let you know that my mom thinks you’re awesome,” Even says with a grin.

A slow, bashful smile spreads over Isak’s face. They had spent the better part of yesterday with Even’s mother - as he’d mourned the night before, Isak had indeed met her for the first time sleep-deprived and practically giddy from the incredible sex they’d been having, but it had actually gone really well. “She does?”

“Mhm,” Even says softly, reaching up to brush Isak’s hair away from his forehead so he can plant a kiss there. “Right before we left, when I went to my room to get some clothes and stuff for the next few days? She came in and told me that she really likes you.”

Isak’s blushing again, and he shifts his eyes to the floor in front of them, butterflies in his stomach. He’s never really been sure what kind of impression he leaves on the parents of his friends anyway, so when it’s his _boyfriend’s_ family the stakes are extra high, but he’s apparently done well. 

“She said...” Even continues, now taking Isak’s hand and rubbing his thumb back and forth across Isak’s palm. “She said she thinks you’re very handsome.” Isak groans and tries to hide his smile in Even’s shoulder. “And she said she can tell that you really care about me.”

“I love you,” Isak gently corrects him. 

“I love you, too,” Even replies softly, and Isak can hear the smile in his voice. “And... she also said that she thinks you’re very good for me.”

That makes Isak look back up at him. Even nods and swallows hard, his eyes going hazy as he focuses on Isak’s lips. “That when things get bad again, you’ll be good for me. Well, good for me all the time, but especially then. That you’ll be able to take care of me.” He swallows again, and Isak can tell it’s over a lump in his throat. “Because they will get bad again. I’m not going to hide that from you.”

“I don’t want you to hide it,” Isak whispers. He shifts their joined hands so he can bring Even’s to his mouth, closing his eyes as he presses a kiss to the center of his palm. “I’m glad she thinks that,” he says then, staring down at Even’s hand. “I’m glad she has faith in me, because I’m probably going to suck at it at first.”

“You didn’t suck at it last week,” Even assures him, and Isak kisses his palm again in thanks before leaning his cheek into it and staring up at him. “And I’m not going to sugarcoat it - it _is_ going to be hard at first. But we’ll be able to learn from each other, you know? I have faith, too.”

Isak nods, and now he’s swallowing over a lump in his own throat. He leans in to kiss Even, wrapping his arms around Even’s neck and pulling him into a hug. “You know,” he says suddenly, staring blankly across the room as this thought finishes forming and clicks into place. “God, I just - I just realized. It’s... well, I don’t really know, I’ve never actually asked so it might not be the same, but I think--” He tries to blink back the veil of tears that has sprung to his eyes, shaking his head slightly. “I think being with you, and us learning from each other, is going to help me with my mom, too.”

He looks into Even’s eyes, smiling at the revelation, and Even smiles right back, nodding. “I hope so,” he whispers. “I really do.” Then he draws Isak close to him, all but pulls him into his lap, and Isak curls into him gratefully, content to just sit here while these few tears work their way through him. Even holds him patiently, rubbing his back and murmuring softly to him.

As he often does when he’s with Even, Isak has completely forgotten that the rest of the world exists, and so he’s quite startled when Noora’s voice floats into the room. “Hello... everything okay?”

He looks up to see her standing in the doorway, fully dressed and made up. He hadn’t even heard the shower turn off, and wonders vaguely how long they’ve been sitting here as he gives her a quick smile. “Yeah, fine. Hi.”

“We’re just being sappy,” Even chimes in, and all three of them snicker. “We’re going to make cookies,” he adds. “Want to help?”

Noora looks genuinely disappointed. “Oh, I’m going out to meet Eva and Sana, but I wish I could stay and help! Save me some?” She’s apparently satisfied that she hasn’t interrupted anything serious between them and is anxious to get out of their hair, since she’s already reaching for her coat and scarf. 

“We will,” Isak says, but Even makes a small sound of protest. 

“Excuse me, I thought we’d said we were going to eat all of them,” he says in a feigned accusatory tone, and Isak has to stifle a laugh. “You promised.”

Isak lets out a deep, put-upon sigh, and swivels his head back to Noora. “I did promise. I’m sorry.” She laughs and waves a hand, and then he mouths silently to her, “One or two for you. I’ll try.”

Still smiling, Noora picks up her bag and gives them a little wave goodbye, as Isak calls to her to please say hi to the girls. After the door closes behind her, he sighs and turns back to Even. “Okay. Going to shower.” He kisses Even quickly. “Don’t start without me.”

Ten minutes later, he’s pushing his damp hair out of his eyes as he re-enters the kitchen, amused to see that Even has arranged all of the ingredients neatly next to the sink, along with a large bowl and measuring tools. “I made coffee,” Even says, pointing to a steaming mug on the counter for Isak and taking a sip from his own.

Sighing happily, Isak says, “You know, I could really get used to this boyfriend thing.” He winks at Even as he picks up the mug, holding it between both hands to warm them. “I mean, all the kissing and sex and stuff is great on its own, but coffee already made for me in the morning? And cookie-making?” He nods toward Even’s little lineup with a smile. “Fantastic.”

Even hums and grins at him. “You’re going to be my sous chef, okay? Measuring everything out.”

“Okay,” Isak agrees, sidling up to him. “Where’s your-- oh.” He squints at Even’s phone, which is propped up against the knife block. “500 grams of flour,” he says, and takes another sip from his coffee before rubbing his hands together and starting to open the new bag Even bought. 

To his credit, he only spills a little of the flour as he dumps it into the bowl. He gets the baking powder and butter in there perfectly though, and Even gives him a kiss in thanks as he plunges his hands into the bowl to mix it all together. Isak reads ahead and gets the proper amount of sugar ready for him, then leans against the counter to watch. Everything has been going just fine until now, just fine and dandy and totally innocent, but he’s made the mistake of focusing on Even’s hands. Hands that have, by now, explored nearly every inch of Isak's body. He’s staring intently, fascinated and more than a little turned on by Even’s long, deft fingers. 

“You have great hands,” he mumbles after a few moments. “Very... skillful.” In an attempt to hide the blush rapidly rising to his cheeks, he grabs his coffee and takes a long gulp, trying to pretend it’s not still very hot.

“Thank you,” Even says softly, and even though Isak isn’t looking at him now he just _knows_ there’s a self-satisfied little smirk on his beautiful face. “Sugar, please.”

Without a word, Isak adds the sugar to the bowl. He has every intention of looking away, of focusing on the recipe to check the next step, but this proves to be quite difficult, because Even is blending in the sugar with his hands as well, and is being very deliberate about it, actually appearing to _massage_ the mixture together. 

Isak starts chewing at a corner of his lip, not daring to drink his coffee now for fear of dropping the mug. He stares, trembling just a little, as Even raises a hand to his mouth and sucks the tip of a finger between his lips. “Mmm,” Even hums, and Isak’s gaze shifts up to his eyes, his own mouth dropping open a little. “It’s delicious,” Even says softly, and holds his hand out to Isak. “Taste?”

If this isn’t the most unfair fucking thing... Isak lets out a tiny sound that he desperately tries to tell himself was _not_ a squeak. But, completely independent of his brain, his head dips forward and his lips close around the end of Even’s middle finger, and his traitor of a tongue has the audacity to lick the butter-and-sugar concoction from Even’s skin. He tries not to suck at Even’s finger, he really and truly does, but it just... happens.

“You’re evil,” he whispers, after sliding his mouth away. “The worst person in the entire world.”

“I know, but you love me anyway, right?” Even replies, smiling sweetly at him.

“Eggs!” Isak says loudly, cracking two into another bowl with slightly shaking hands and beating them vigorously with a fork before dumping them into Even’s bowl. “And vanilla...” He splashes some in, not bothering to measure. “And done. Now please use a fucking spoon before I have to tackle you to the floor _right here.”_

Even has been quietly snickering during this display and now bursts out laughing, pressing several quick and playful kisses over Isak’s face. “You’re amazing, you really are,” he says, still laughing as he washes his hands in the sink and takes the wooden spoon Isak is holding out for him. As he starts to stir the eggs and vanilla into the batter, he asks Isak at what temperature the oven needs to be set.

But now it’s Isak’s turn to smirk. “You didn’t read the recipe all the way through, did you?” he asks. “They need to chill for a couple of hours before we bake them.”

“Really?” Even asks, letting go of the spoon and grabbing his phone.

“Yes, really. But it’s totally okay, because I know exactly what we can spend those couple of hours doing.”

Even looks up from his phone to stare at Isak, who is leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes gleaming. Isak continues, “Before, I was thinking we could just watch a movie or something, but plans have now changed. Because of you and your finger and your whole ‘oooh, Isak, _taste this._ ’” Trying very hard not to laugh, Isak points at him accusingly. “I hope you’re proud of yourself,” he whispers in a mock menacing voice.

Even is clearly biting the inside of his cheek and swallowing back his own laughter as he nods soberly. “I’m very sorry. I accept the consequences.” He picks up the spoon again and starts mixing rapidly, the bowl’s contents already forming the desired ball of dough described in the recipe. “And I accept whatever punishment you think is appropriate,” he adds, and oh, that is _it._ They both bend practically double, they’re cackling so hard, and Even nearly knocks the bowl to the floor. 

They finally get it together a few moments later, but Isak is wiping tears of laughter from his eyes as he slides along the counter to press his body close to Even’s, standing hip to hip with him. Even is still giggling as he tries to keep stirring, and Isak holds the bowl for him with one hand and cups Even’s cheek with the other, turning his face toward him to give him a kiss. Soon, Even lets go of the spoon and pulls Isak completely into his arms, drawing out the kiss for as long as possible.

“I think it’s ready,” he murmurs against Isak’s mouth. “And so am I,” he adds, making Isak snort with quiet laughter again. They manage to cover the bowl with plastic wrap and pop it into the freezer _while_ continuing to kiss, and their lips barely separate as they move down the hall toward Isak’s bedroom, Isak walking backwards and nearly stumbling, pulling Even along by his hips.

\---------

They stroll hand-in-hand back into the kitchen about three hours later, after two rounds of utterly glorious sex in Isak’s bed and one more in the shower, neither of them the slightest bit capable of wiping the ridiculous smiles off their faces. Even makes more coffee while Isak removes the bowl from the freezer and starts the oven, sighing happily as he checks Even’s phone for the recipe instructions one more time. “It says we should let it warm up a little bit first,” he tells Even.

“Good, because I don’t think I’m quite done kissing you just yet,” Even says softly, placing a hand on either side of Isak’s face and pulling him close. Isak practically melts then and there, realizing that the hours they’ve just spent wrapped up in each other were not nearly enough for him - he’s starting to wonder if anything will be.

The oven chimes several minutes later, alerting them that it’s reached the proper temperature, and Isak reluctantly drops his forehead to Even’s shoulder. “Back to work,” he mumbles, and pulls away from Even with effort.

“Work? This isn’t work,” Even counters, reaching across Isak to slide the bowl between them. He raises both eyebrows at Isak and smiles. “Just think of how wonderful they’re going to be when we’re done.”

“Cookies for lunch,” Isak replies.

“Exactly!”

They split the rest of the job, both rolling the dough into small balls and placing them on baking sheets. Then Isak gently presses his thumb into each ball while Even chops almonds into small pieces to drop into the indentations Isak is making. About half the cookies have their almonds when he suddenly asks Isak if they have any jam that he could put into the rest of them, and Isak produces a jar of cloudberry from the fridge. “I think it’s Eskild’s, so I guess we have to leave a whole plate of cookies for him in return.” Shortly afterward, the first two sheets are in the oven, and they’re safe to resume kissing, which they retreat to the living room sofa to do, almost allowing this first batch to burn, they’re so unwilling to move apart.

And the cookies are indeed just as wonderful as Even promised. They sit cross-legged on the kitchen floor with a full plate between them, fresh coffee in hand, laughing and talking about everything and nothing at all. At one point, Isak slyly says that they should have added a bit of cardamom to the dough, which sends them both on a new gale of laughter, recalling those horrible cheese toasts that first day they’d hung out together. 

“It would have been good, though,” Even says, biting into his fifth cookie.

“Next time,” Isak replies, and gives him a wink.

They’ve made a lot, so there’s plenty left for Noora and Eskild and Linn, and indeed for several other people. Even mentions that he might take some to his mother in the coming week, and this prompts something for Isak.

Nervously, and not quite able to look at Even, he says, “That’s a good idea. Maybe... maybe I could take some to my mom, too.” He pauses, closes his eyes for a second, and clears his throat. “Do you want to come with me?” Biting his lip, he makes himself look up, and sees Even gazing at him with such adoration and pride that he almost can’t bear it. “I think she’d like to meet you.”

“I’d love to,” Even whispers, and Isak lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “Yes, I’d love to.”

Isak gives him a small, grateful smile, and takes a sip of his coffee. “Best boyfriend ever,” he says with a happy little sigh.

“Who, me or you?”

Grinning now, Isak shrugs. “Both of us?”

“Ohhh no,” Even laughs. “No, I think you can claim that title, baby.”

“What the fuck, you made me cookies,” Isak replies, putting on a pout. “And damn good coffee.”

Still shaking his head with laughter, Even moves his own coffee mug so he can slide around the plate to Isak’s side, and drapes both arms around his neck. “Okay, okay, I win this round,” he whispers, leaning their foreheads together. “But I can’t wait to see what you do to try and win the next one.”

“Prepare yourself,” Isak says softly, and kisses his cheek, then his lips. “I’m learning from a master.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](http://dahlstrom.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
